Bower Drapes Rolled Up Poem by East Sea Fairy Xing Yi

By LU Zugao Translated by East-sea Fairy

The drapes of the ornate bower are rolled up and fold.
Invited into it is a ray of the new sunny daylight.
The morning air breathes a nip of cold.
So I close the silver white folding screen tight.
The falling petals that smell a sweet scent faint and light
Make me feel full of sadness and woe.
Secretly I weigh the times I can encounter lassies in whom I take delight,
when I reckon up the distance of travel to and fro
The west lake in ten years I can go.

However I find nothing gold can stay long,
and fair faces easily grow old.
Hence I linger about the spring scenes in wine daylong,
without chats with bosom friends to hold,
nor anyone to clear-headedly behold.
Big is the blue above, broad is the earth below.
Either the productive plain or the barren world,
Nowhere can I find once more the pipe music tuneful and mellow.
Even with flowers and wine as in adolescence I can't find that mood I know.